Foreign Influence and the Sports Page

The sun never set on Great Britain's empire for hundreds of years, and it continues to burn brightly on the sports pages in the world's print media. Citizens from the United States who read international newspapers can always find a mixture of amusement and bewilderment in the English words and phrases used to describe athletes in action.

In both the U. S. and Britain, adjectives and verbs mix with slang and colloquialism to create a descriptive language all its own, but there are stark differences in style. In China and other nations touched by a broad British influence, Americans can find a long list of terms which they would never see in a newspaper at home.

FORM, describing a condition of a player or team: "Liverpool showed good form." I can assure you the only form sports fans in the U. S. are interesed in is that which is exhibited by the Laker Girls or the women in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.

CRASHED-OUT means a player or team lost its game or match. But let's get real, the only sport in which anyone should really expect to read the phrase "crashed out" is auto racing. Or maybe rugby. It depends on who is receiving the crashing.

SNATCHED, as in "the Chinese gymnasts snatched their third gold medal." The present tense of this word is also used to describe a part of the female anatomy, in both the U. S. and Britain. It's basically an obscenity which can't be used in mixed company, much less on the sports page. The fact that the British are still printing this word probably indicates the lack of lady sports editors in newsrooms across the Commonwealth (or what's left of it, anyway).

LEVEL, to even the score: "Manchester United leveled the match." I am personally more accustomed to seeing the word "tie" to describe an even score. But in soccer, the "tie" is the game itself. Leveled is a word to suggest what Mike Tyson used to do to opponents in the boxing ring.

There are a few good reasons why soccer is not so popular in the U. S. European-based English adjectives meant to describe great soccer action tend to be those once used by 19th century British aristocracy. A "brilliant" goal. A "sublime" pass. "Gifted." "Clever." "Well-Earned." "Well-Deserved." Predictably, the words Americans use to describe the same kind of events evoke much more violent or extravagant 20th century imagery: "blazing"..."dazzling"..."towering."

I haven't seen a Yao Ming dunk described as "clever" yet, but the poor defender who tried to stop Yao probably got a "well-deserved" degree of humiliation.

Liu Xiang

Reading stories about how the trials and tribulations of South Korean athletes at the Vancouver Winter Olympics is making that country lose its collective mind reminded me of how the Chinese feel about their athletics hero, Liu Xiang.

I thought it was only a myth when I heard someone say that all of China stops when Liu Xiang runs. Liu is the 110 meter hurdling sensation who became the first Chinese track athlete to win a gold medal at the Athens Olympics. He then turned national fame to shame by walking away from the starting line in the Beijing Olympics due to a chronic leg injury. Just as in all good sports stories, Liu made a monumental comeback, running to a near-victory in Shanghai 12 months later, and then lined-up for the gold medal run in China's 11th National Games.

I was enjoying a quick meal at a McDonald's restaurant in Beijing when Liu Xiang ran his National Games race. A large flat-screen TV in the corner of the place was tuned to the live coverage. And, true to what I was told, everything stopped. Diners stopped eating. Workers stopped working. Counter staffers stopped taking orders. I could imagine that all across China, all kinds of behavior came to a screeching halt as this one sports event captured the nation's attention.

People stopped spitting. Kids stopped peeing in public. Corrupt officials stopped cheating on their wives with pretty young secretaries, and their familes stopped suffering in silence. Taxi drivers stopped being obnoxious jerks, although I am sure there were some who didn't get with the program and continued with their lousy behavior.

And in 13.25 seconds, it was over. Liu Xiang ran his race, won the gold medal, and life returned to normal. Except for that taxi driver who never quit showing his bad-ass attitude, blissfully unaware that his national sports hero was making history again.

Year of the Tiger

This is finally the week in which the Chinese change the page on the lunar calendar.

The Year of the Tiger is at hand, which is good news for all tigers with the possible exception of Tiger Woods.

I've read recently that there are not as many wild tigers as you might think. The tiger is apparently listed as one of the globe's ten most endangered species. There are thought to be only 3,200 wild tigers living in the world today.

In China, I imagine the tigers must know this, and are hungry to get even. Almost a year ago, two Chinese men decided to take a shortcut through a wildlife preserve near Beijing, not realizing that it was also a habitat for wild tigers, who were likely shocked and amazed by the sight of live human beings in their midst. In fact, I suspect two of the tigers had a conversation inspired by the lizards in the old Budweiser TV commercials from a few years back:

Tiger 1: Hey, Frankie.

Tiger 2: Yeah, Louie.

Tiger 1: You know, we've been living in this jungle far away from our homes for a couple of years now. And I was just thinking, the food here is good, but it ain't the same. I just can't get used to it.

Tiger 2: Well, Beijing food comes from a different culture. It is an acquired taste fit only for the most-sophisticated palate. They've been enjoying this food for 5000 years, so they can't be wrong. All the foreign tigers swear by it.

Tiger 1: I know, I know. The Siberian tigers and Bengal tigers enjoy those dishes. But I tell you, Louie, some of that traditional food smells like dirty dishrags, and tastes worse. Just sayin'.

Tiger 2: But the South China tigers say the food they get down there is just delicious.

Tiger 1: Well, DUH. It's South China. They're getting prime choice. Deer, rabbit, antelope, the spicy Sichuan stuff. But up here at the Badaling Great Wall, it ain't so good. The fact of the matter is, I have a craving for something we haven't had in quite a while.

Tiger 2: What's that, Louie?

Tiger 1: Three words. Basic. Human. Flesh.

Tiger 2: C'mon, Louie. We're tigers in China. We just go with the flow and do what the Romans do. Besides, where are you going to find any humans to chow down on over here? It's not like a couple of Chinese guys are going to come intruding into our nature park.

Tiger 1: You mean like those two over there?

Intruder 1: I don't think this is the right shortcut.

Intruder 2: Why?

Intruder 1: Because those two man-eating tigers are on the same side of the fence we're on.

Needless to say, the intruders regretted their decision, and the afternoon on which they chose to enter the tigers' den was part of their last day on earth.

Tiger 2: Well, I gotta hand it to you, you were right. Basic human flesh was a welcome change of pace.

Tiger 1: Yeah. But it woulda tasted better if it was French.

Generosity

Every few months, my company gives every employee a gift bag filled with household items. It is the kind of generosity that you hardly ever see in the United States; at least I know I never saw it at any of the places where I worked. Each bag contains everyday, practical goods like dishwashing liquid, hair shampoo, and hand sanitizer.


These bags are extremely popular with the workers. I think it's part of what the Chinese have learned from experience. Only a few decades ago, goods like these were only available through a system of rationing. Now, of course, you can find them in all of the supermarkets, but they aren't exactly free. And, to be honest, some of the low wage-scale employees at my place still find it hard to afford a few of the items in the bag. It's a luxury for them.


As for us foreigners, we also happily acknowledge the company's spirit of giving. But in the back of my mind, I can't help but recall the news stories from back in the day about Chinese-made goods like these: the toothpaste which contained a strange chemical additive that might be dangerous, the laundry soap that didn't really get clothes clean, the toys coated with lead-based paint.


The first thing I look for when open my gift bag is the item whose label lacks a single word of English. Nothing but Chinese characters. I have no idea what it is, absolutely no clue. Just opening the cap sends me on an adventure like a kid with a brand new chemistry set. Is it solid? Liquid? Will it kill bugs? Should I wear eye protection? Should I keep it out of reach of children and / or pets? Is it edible? What is it really used for, anyway?


Maybe it's a setup. After a few days, some guys in uniforms will get into my apartment when I don't show up for work: "Stupid foreigner. He should have known better than to let the Traditional Chinese Herbal Milk Whitener Body Wash mix with ordinary bath water. OK, let's take him to the hospital and clean out his lungs."


I mean, how else will the other 1.3 billion consumers know if it's safe?

Official Cars

In keeping with Beijing's status as a national capital, and adhering to 20th century mainland tradition, you see a lot of solid black sedans in the city. It reminds you of Henry Ford's famous pronouncement upon creating the first assembly line for the Model T: "you can buy any color you like, as long as it's black."


Some of the cars have diplomatic plates and shuttle important people to and from the embassy districts, some carry police officers, and some are actually driven by ordinary, albeit relatively wealthy, Beijing residents or their chauffeurs. But most belong to powerful Party officials, and in one of the most bizarre tales I've heard in China, young children are taught to actually salute or wave at black cars out of gratitude and respect for the men or women riding inside.


In the disrespectful West, children -- and grownups -- are more likely to shoot the finger at such authority figures and their rolling symbols of superiority. But in China, authority is not just respected, it is revered and not meant to be questioned. And of course, saluted. Literally.


I often imagine a black car with tinted glass windows rolling past with a corrupt businessman or official in the back seat, and a hot young fashion model half his age riding on his lap. As the car passes some young children on the sidewalk, the man is producing a different kind of salute.


To me and many of my fellow foreigners, a black car is just another black car. Unless it's onyx.
I'd be more impressed if an official car glided by with mini-chandeliers mounted above the headlights, like the ride Issac Hayes' character had in "Escape From New York." But for now, I can only guess who is behind the tinted glass, and imagine riding in the Chinese seat of power myself, young fashion model girl included. Like Wesley Snipes' detective character said in "Passenger 57": "...ALWAYS BET ON BLACK!"

Induction Cooker

I have an induction cooker.

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It is a great way to cook stir-fry foods in a ridiculously short amount of time, given that you know how to make it work. The biggest reason I got one was because going out for every meal was getting too expensive. So, to paraphrase President Obama, it was time for Change To Come To My Kitchen.

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Buying the induction cooker at a Beijing department store was predictably tough. I had to dodge nosy sales clerks who wanted to ask me 40 questions in Chinese. Maybe the questions were as harmless as "so, what foods are you thinking of preparing?" To which my joking response would have been, "human liver with a side of fava beans and a nice Chianti." Not that they would have understood the humor, even if I'd said it in Mandarin.

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Fortunately for me, the 5 clerks assigned to this single product aisle were busy interrogating another customer, so I grabbed the merchandise and sneaked it to the checkout counter for purchase. I carried the induction cooker up to my apartment, laid it on the kitchen counter, lowered the lights, put on some sexy music, and prepared to get down to some home-cooking.

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Except that the instructions for operating the cooker were completely written in Chinese.

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After consulting various online sources, I discovered that induction cookers use a magnetic field to generate heat. I am familiar with microwave cooking, but I had no idea I'd need the bad guy from the X-Men film series to help me fix dinner in Beijing. All I could figure out was that the thing would beep for 5 annoying minutes before it finally died.

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Once I purchased the appropriate iron-clad pots and pans, I was finally ready to begin the routine of creating fabulous meals at home. But by now, the magic -- not to mention my appetite -- was over.

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I decided to eat some of the magnetically-heated, stir-fried meat and veggies and save the rest for a microwaved mini-meal. The next day, was starving. I popped open the microwave oven only to discover a rash of Chinese characters on the inside of the door, describing how to use it.

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In my Beijing kitchen, just like in U. S. politics, it seems real change will have to wait.

Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf

I have latey been fascinated by a popular cartoon in China. Its title is translated in English as "Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf." The animated adventures are aimed at children, who watch as a beret-wearing grey wolf schemes to capture a colony of young goats at the orders of his overbearing, crown-capped wife. What always follows is a set of hiliarious circumstances in which the goats foil the wolf's plans, taking many of the ideas directly from the playbook which the Road Runner used against Wile E. Coyote in the West. The poor wolf always ends up with cuts, bruises, and a damaged ego. To make matter worse, his angry wife usually clobbers him on the head with a frying pan as punishment for his failure.

Anyone from the West who watches this cartoon will immediately see similarities with the Smurfs. The goat leader is a teenage boy called "Pleasant." There is another goat who is a fitness freak, a pretty girl goat sometimes named "Betty" in English, and a gluttonous goat dubbed "Fatty." An older, wise goat resembling Albert Einstein plays the Papa Smurf role. The formulaic plot puts the goats briefly in harm's way thanks to the wolf's nefarious plans, but a glitch always allows the goats to go free and leaves the wolf with a wife-induced knock on his noggin. As you might realize by now, I've watched this cartoon series much too often, many times accompanied by a few pints of chilled beer.

"Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf" is at the center of a Disney-esqe merchandising bonanza. Kids all across China can buy a vast assortment of things emblazoned with the characters' image: balloons, lunchboxes, stuffed animals, and all kinds of toys. Some Westerners who bemoan the advancement of modern, materialistic China are troubled by this fact. I am more troubled by the idea that many women believe the wolf character represents "the perfect husband, because he does what his wife asks and never complains." Not even while suffering the most heinous serial acts of domestic violence ever seen on Chinese television.

But I'm pretty sure that after consuming enough Tsingdao brew, even I would accept being whacked in the head with a frying pan if my wolf-wife was cute enough.